


In the earth beneath our feet

by AMaskOnTwoFaces



Series: A Mask On One Shots [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (or like a one and a half shot), Abuse of italics, Horcruxes, Hufflepuff Harry Potter, M/M, Master of Death Harry Potter, Necromancer Harry Potter, Necromancy, One Shot, Short One Shot, Soul Bond, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, abuse of commas, abuse of dashes, abuse of ellipses, abuse of parentheses, extra side story included as the second chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:22:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25743517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AMaskOnTwoFaces/pseuds/AMaskOnTwoFaces
Summary: In the earth beneath our feet… the dead are immortal***The hall immediately breaks out into whispers.  Necks crane about, trying to take a look. Tom hears the name “Peverell!” repeated several times over, in various states of surprise and confusion, but then a hiss of “Necromancer!” catches his ear.Necromancer? Well, then...perhaps this could be his first ally.  A necromancer sounds like a powerful and fearsome wizard to have on his side.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Series: A Mask On One Shots [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1866877
Comments: 25
Kudos: 1234
Collections: Harry Potter Fanfiction Favorites, Little Red's LVHP library, ariana's hp fic collection





	1. In the earth beneath our feet

**Author's Note:**

> Rated T because necromancy, and therefore there is discussion of dead things, and of dead things not staying dead. Also, there is one tiny little ‘b’ word, but be warned that it is said in a rather derogatory manner.
> 
> This was a plot bunny that I started writing at least two years ago. I have recently gone through my dusty library of fics and polished some up for public viewing. This was originally intended to be a more complex, multi-chaptered fic. However, I’m not THAT invested in this idea, and honestly, I feel my work is better when I keep it short like I naturally want to.

It’s almost Tom’s turn.

There’s just two boys left in front of him. The smaller--a scrawny, ragged thing--scampers forward when “Peverell, Hadrian!” gets called out.

The hall immediately breaks out into whispers. Necks crane about, trying to take a look. Tom hears the name “Peverell!” repeated several times over, in various states of surprise and confusion, but then a hiss of “Necromancer!” catches his ear.

Necromancer? Well, then...perhaps this could be his first ally. A necromancer sounds like a powerful and fearsome wizard to have on his side.

“HUFFLEPUFF!” the hat cries.

Tom’s lip curls as he eyes the tiny child that dashes to the table filled with black and yellow. On second thought, even if this student  _ does _ happen to be a necromancer, it probably wouldn’t be one he wants on  _ his _ side.

Focused as he is on the pitifulness of this so-called necromancer, Tom only vaguely hears “Potter, Charlus!” called to be sorted (and the subsequent announcement of “GRYFFINDOR!” from the animated hat), but he snaps back into focus when his own name rings through the hall.

“Riddle, Thomas!”

“SLYTHERIN!” The hat decides near as soon as it touches his head.

Tom is not surprised. He walks with purpose over to the house proudly decked in green and silver. The first years already sat there sneer at him and his muggleborn name, but quickly dismiss him to continue gossiping about  _ Peverell _ of all things.

* * *

Tom’s house largely ignores him in the coming weeks. Which is fine by him (for now) as he needs to get his feet under him in this new world.

Peverell, by comparison, seems to be the only name on people’s lips for the first month. Known for dabbling in death magics--though they’ve never officially been recognized as necromancers--his family supposedly died out centuries ago, though the name lives on in a common children’s tale. It’s a shock to most students to see a child of this supposedly long-dead family attend Hogwarts alongside them.

Eventually, though, everyone realizes that this Peverell is just another ‘Puff. Average, unassuming, and quiet. More interesting topics soon make their way back into conversations, to Tom’s relief

Tom does read the children’s tale Peverell is mentioned in--for research purposes, of course--and can’t help but to sneer at the idea of death being a real being. And the Hallows? Please. Invisibility cloaks are such terrible measures for sneaking about. There are actual spells that accomplish the same thing without needing to carry such a large object with you. The resurrection stone? Obviously a trap to ensnare the foolish. It just goes to show how much of a weakness  _ love  _ is.

An unbeatable wand, though, now that has merit. Obviously, it’s powers are useless if you brag about them to those around you, but if you can keep quiet about the power you hold, it should make you unstoppable.

Tom grins.

There is only power, and those too weak to seek it.

* * *

Tom goes about his business, turning the hearts and minds of Slytherin house to his own purposes.

Years pass, and thoughts of Peverell slowly cease to exist. He is just a classmate, one that hovers only passingly on the edges of Tom’s awareness.

Until, one day, all those rumors from first year come crashing back into focus.

* * *

Tom looks down upon the cooling body of Myrtle Warren. 

His lip curls in distaste at the sight of her. Moaning Myrtle. Ugh. What a whiny bitch.

While he wasn’t  _ intending _ to kill anyone, he’s definitely not complaining about  _ her  _ being dead.

In fact, now’s the perfect time to make his first horcrux. While he was hoping to use grander objects than this, his diary will do for the first, especially considering how unassuming it will be compared to the eventual others he will make.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a voice says from behind him.

Tom  _ whirls _ , eyes widening as his nostrils flare in alarm. He could have  _ sworn _ he locked the door, he should have felt the wards go down, a tingle in his magic,  _ anything _ .

And yet, there Hadrian Peverell stands, calm as can be as he leans against the bathroom door (It’s still locked? But how...?), like there isn’t a dead student and her murderer stood (or rather, laid, in Myrtle’s case) in the same room as him.

“...Do...what?” Tom finally asks, because, as loath as he is to admit it, Peverell has completely caught him off guard, and he has no idea how to approach the wizard.

“Make a horcrux,” Peverell says plainly.

Tom freezes. He has no idea what to do. His mind races through possible courses of action, examining and discarding each as quickly as his mind can create them.

“...And why not?” he finally says.

Peverell shrugs, pushing off the door to take several steps towards Tom, who still stands incriminatingly next to Warren’s body.

“Each one will split in half the soul that exists inside your body. With each horcrux, your remaining soul will grow exponentially smaller. And the less whole your soul is, the less whole your mind and body and magic will become. Simply put, you’ll go insane. You’ll lose that sharp intelligence you prize so much, your charming good looks as well. You’ll lose your immense magical strength. Frankly, you’ll become more and more  _ animal _ , unable to see past that which is right in front of you, reliant on only your strongest emotions to dictate your next course of action.”

Tom doesn’t think his eyes have ever been wider. He vaguely thinks he should be masking his emotions better than this, but, honestly, his ability to control this situation was trampled into the dust the second Peverell announced his presence.

Peverell takes another step forward, one hand coming up to reach almost beseechingly towards Tom. “The only true way for you to become immortal is to be the Master of Death, or to be in a soul bond with said Master.”

Tom’s chuckle edges on hysteria. “What, so I have to gather three obscure trinkets to become immortal?”

“Gather them and willingly face your own death,” Peverell replies, and Tom chokes, “Unfortunately--or, well, fortunately for you, I suppose--I’ve beaten you to it.”

“ _ You _ ?” Tom’s voice is incredulous, “ _ You’re  _ the Master of Death?”

Peverell’s eyes crinkle in mirth, “Yes, me.”

“And... what? You would be willing to soul bond with me?” forgive Tom if he isn’t going to believe a pretty solution so neatly dropped into his lap.

“I’d like nothing more,” Peverell says.

Tom is immediately suspicious. “What do  _ you  _ get out of this?”

“Your soul,” Peverell says simply.

Tom can’t help the step he takes backwards.

Peverell just rolls his eyes. “I actually grew up as a horcrux,” he sighs, “When I died to become the Master of Death, that horcrux piece was destroyed, but since that soul piece was in me during my formative years, my body thinks that my natural state is a full soul plus some. Forming a soul bond with you will help settle that ragged edge in my soul, allowing the rest of me to feel whole again.”

Which, alright. That doesn’t sound too bad. (And there’s  _ so _ much Tom wants to unpack there.  _ People _ can be horcruxes? And who would choose a child for theirs?) Still; “I want a chance to research whatever bond we choose to do beforehand. I refuse to enter something so binding without knowing all the facts.”

Peverell shrugs, “No rush, I understand.” He moves to kneel beside Warren, pulling out his wand to tap at various parts of her body as he mutters under his breath.

Tom is getting tired of not understanding Peverell’s actions. “...What are you doing?” he asks.

“Raising Myrtle.”

When he glances at Tom’s disbelieving expression, Peverell rolls his eyes.

“If it gets out that this Chamber of Secrets business got so out of hand that a student  _ died _ , the Board of Governors will have no choice but to shut down the school.” He looks at Tom knowingly, “You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

Tom can feel himself blanch. Why hadn’t he thought of  _ that _ ?

* * *

Years later, as they lay in bed one night, the bond singing at their physical proximity, Tom finally asks the question that has bothered him the most.

Not about his previous life as a Dark Lord.

Not about Hadrian’s position as his prophesied enemy.

Not about Dumbledore’s various machinations throughout that alternate reality.

Not even the frankly ridiculous plots that all three of them employed in an effort to achieve their goals.

No. This question is simple, but loaded.

“Why were you placed in Hufflepuff this time?”

Hadrian smiles. Tom can feel it through his nightshirt.

“Because death is fair,” comes the reply, voice muffled in Tom’s chest. There’s a serene quality to Hadrian’s words as Tom traces patterns onto his bondmate’s back. “It’s toil is ceaseless. To many, it’s coming is a kindness. And in so many cases, the instance of death is used to create yet more life. Death accepts all,” Hadrian murmurs, “And it is always,  _ always  _ fair.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I’m so in love with the title for this piece. It has LAYERS. Obviously there’s the reference to necromancy, with raising the dead out of the ground and all that, but then it’s also a reference to Slytherin and Hufflepuff, the two houses in the deep, dark dungeons of Hogwarts. I specifically used the word ‘earth’ instead of ‘ground’, because it invokes more imagery of life and growing things, referring not only to Hufflepuff’s generally accepted position as the herbology house, but also to the forces of life that Harry plays with as a necromancer--‘raising’ the dead and all that--and to life and nourishment that he bestows onto Tom by guiding him away from the path of horcruxes and dark lords. Beyond that, you also generally think of the earth beneath your feet as a stable force, which in this case Harry is; stabilizing not only Tom’s path in life, but also his very soul.
> 
> Anyways, my brain had more that it wanted to say on Myrtle being raised from the dead, and since it didn’t fit into this main story, it kinda just grew into its own thing. Check that out in the second chapter!


	2. ...the dead are immortal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The life after death of one Myrtle Warren.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, I'm absolutely floor by the overwhelming reception this fic has garnered in just the last 24 hours. Speechless.
> 
> Anywho, here's the little extra I promised; it's not much length, but I hope it proves entertaining nonetheless!
> 
> Also, I'll have some more MOD!Harry fics (among other old plot bunnies) which I'll be posting to this same series within the coming week.  
> I'll be posting "Soul Bound" next, since the Tom/Harry pairing seems to be popular, so keep an eye out if you're interested!

_ Peverell shrugs, pushing off the door to take several steps towards Tom, who still stands incriminatingly next to Warren’s body. He moves to kneel by Warren, pulling out his wand to tap at various parts of her body as he mutters under his breath. _

_ Tom is getting tired of not understanding Peverell’s actions. “...What are you doing?” he asks. _

_ “Raising Myrtle.” _

_ When he glances at Tom’s disbelieving expression, Peverell rolls his eyes. _

_ “If it gets out that this Chamber of Secrets business got so out of hand that a student died, the Board of Governors will have no choice but to shut down the school.” He looks at Tom knowingly, “You wouldn’t want that, would you?” _

_ Tom blanches. Why hadn’t he thought of that? _

* * *

“Isn’t it going to be obvious that something’s wrong with her?” Tom looks critically at the way Myrtle’s body sits there with vacant eyes and mouth hanging open.

“Naw, the connection just hasn’t settled in yet.”

“Uhuh.” Forgive Tom for not being convinced.

Peverall rolls his eyes, “It was actually easier than usual, both due to the recentness of her death and the fact that her soul was trying to stay around as a ghost anyways. I essentially just made sure that she haunted her own body, and that said body would continue to operate for her. With any luck, she’ll just think she fell asleep in the bathroom, but I’ll follow up later to make sure she doesn’t realize anything is amiss.”

“...Right,” Tom says, “Well, don’t come crying to me when things go wrong.”

* * *

“You’ll never guess who my new Undersecretary is.”

“Hmm? Who?”

“One Myrtle Warren. Did you put her up to this?”

Hadrian sighs. “I told you, Tom, I just ordered her to do whatever she would do if she was still alive.”

Tom eyes his bondmate in disbelief.

“Really, Tom. At this point she essentially  _ is  _ alive, it’s just that the connection between her soul and her body is artificially forged by an outside force.”

“So much so that she’s  _ aged _ ?”

Hadrian’s smirk is a shade too smug. He shrugs, just a hair too casually, “Just a little expert loosening of the preservation spells on her body, really.”

* * *

MYRTLE WARREN: THE WOMAN WHO LIVED!!

“She survived a  _ killing curse _ , Hadrian!”

Hadrian cackles.


End file.
